Search Across Time
by the happy penguins
Summary: Ever since Diane and Eric laid eyes on each other in 1699, neither one can get the other out of mind. Their occasional meetings across hundreds of years do nothing to fizzle the undeniable spark between them. While Diane is convinced that his love for her is purely physical, Eric can't help but feel the faintest glimmer of warmth in his cold, dead heart when she's around.
1. Chapter 1 New Born

**Rue de Charlemagne, Paris, 1699**

The only living soul who dared to wander the cobble-stoned path at this ungodly hour was a cat. Black as night with two sparkling gems where its eyes should have been, it slinked in the darkness, unafraid and unaffected by my presence. Boldly, it strode forward and rubbed the length of its body against my leg. It was a remarkably beautiful animal, whose unabashed confidence struck me as rare even among felines.

But I was so hungry.

It didn't even make a noise when I cracked its neck open. When I had had my fill, I wiped my hands and my face on the hem of my lace dress, chose a direction, and began to walk with a sense of aimlessness. The full moon flooded the streets with an eerie glow and an electric feel that was undoubtedly supernatural. But I wasn't afraid. A solemn realization struck me: I would never be afraid again.

If you had met me three weeks ago, you wouldn't have recognized me. I myself could never have imagined that this would be the path my life would take.

I was Diane Clemence Aurore de Valois, daughter of the nobleman Jacques-Alexandre de Valois. I was descended from dukes and had dined with royalty. But here I was wandering barefoot through the darkest, dirtiest streets of Paris, amidst the squalor that lurked beneath the city, in nothing but a slip. I had lost everything I had cared about. The only life I had ever known was ripped from me leaving behind a gaping wound that promised to never heal.

It all began at my engagement party. I remember the evening quite vividly. My father had sent for a dress made of a soft, buttery plum-colored velvet for the occasion. My fiancé Jean-Pierre and I had danced the night away, sufficiently plied with champagne and wine. Everyone was in good spirits. My father and my mother sat at the head of the table. I even noticed him give her a cheeky kiss when they thought no one was watching.

I was glad to be marrying Jean-Pierre. Our marriage had been arranged even before our births, but I had a deep, genuine love and respect for him. We had grown up together and I was glad I was marrying someone I knew. I had heard horror stories from my closest amie Anne-Marie, who had married a man thirty years older than her and who insisted on treating her like a common harlot even though she was from the prestigious De Lyonne family. Quickly, she had gone from a blushing, youthful beauty to an ashen, submissive shadow of herself.

Anne-Marie could not attend, but she had sent her wedding presents: a horse named Pyrois for Jean-Pierre who was an avid rider and a thick amethyst-encrusted collar for me, which I had worn for the party.

However, the best part of the whole night had been when my Jean-Pierre had dragged me away to the rose garden outside. In a passionate, hushed tone, he told me of his love and affection for me. I had been so caught up in the excitement and intimacy of the moment that when he kissed my lips gently, I didn't pull away like a proper lady should. Instead, I threw myself into him and took control of his mouth in a decidedly unladylike fashion.

But everything changed when he arrived in a flash of black like a creature of the night. Jean-Pierre was ripped out of my arms and tossed to the ground. With one mighty step, the creature crushed his skull into a pulpy red mess.

"Bonjour mademoiselle," the man said in an indifferent tone. "Je m'appelle Villeforte." Before I could scream, his gloved palm clamped around my mouth and he flung me over his shoulder. Without a backward glance, he ran. He ran faster than any human I had ever seen. Everything was a blur of anger and confusion. My lungs ached from the suppressed scream and I dug my nails into his arms, but he seemed unaffected. What was this monstrous creature?

As I protested, he began to weary. With a quick blow to my head, he knocked me out. The last thing I heard before I blacked out was a muttered, "putain..."

* * *

I woke up in a dimly-lit room in a creaky, old bed completely naked. I didn't how long I had been out. Suddenly, the horrors I had seen flooded my senses and I started to scream, remembering Jean-Pierre's head just as it exploded.

I tried to stand up but I was firmly chained to the bed. Across the room, sitting in a high-backed leather armchair, was the same man who had attacked my lover and me. He was a young, handsome man. He was dressed in the height of noble fashion, but I could tell that he wasn't a nobleman. The way he sat and the way his head was cocked were clear giveaways of the peasant class.

I didn't even know if he was human. He shouldn't have existed; he was unnatural and ungodly.

"Who are you?" I spat angrily. "Where am I?" I tried to twist away from the chains binding me, but they simply cut deep into my skin, drawing blood. His eyes sparkled at the red rivers flowing down my wrists.

"You're safe...for now..." he murmured slowly. His eyes roamed my body wildly, but his mouth was set in a grim line. I felt so dirty and ashamed. My father would be horrified to know where I was. They would have found Jean-Pierre's body and would now be on a wild search across France for me.

"You will never get away with this." I hissed. The man appeared at my side in a flash. With a quivering hand, he stroked my cheek with all the tenderness and affection you saved for a private moment with your lover. But behind that tender face I could see something terrible. I felt nauseated.

Then he took of his coat.

* * *

The harsh memory flooded back like molten silver being poured into my skull. Through gritted teeth, I willed the horrific thoughts away and continued my march across Paris. My appetite was sated. Now I was in need of proper clothes and information. I needed to know what had happened to me. What was I?

As I walked aimlessly, I found myself in a red light district. There were three men loitering outside a brothel. They reeked of spirits and unwashed sweat. They laughed like ravenous hyenas. But I wasn't afraid; I now had the strength of twenty men.

I walked on as if I hadn't noticed them and their general dirtiness. Then one of them whistled.

"Well hello there 'demoiselle, won't you come here and give us a little kiss?" he jeered. His companions diverted their attention from the street signs to me.

"Go fuck yourself." I snapped and started to walk faster. The man glared and started to follow me. "Come on pretty lady, we don't bite much." I was so nauseated by their scent that I felt like ripping their heads off for the sole reason of being dirty. But then again, they probably had wives and children waiting for them at home.

As I started to walk away, one of them reached out and grabbed me by the waist. Shocked and confused, I felt myself go limp. He pushed me against the damp, grimy street and ripped my dress clean off. Spurred on by the comments of his companions, the man started to undo his belt buckle.

All the while, I lay there frozen in fear. For some reason, my strength sapped and my new-found abilities simply disappeared. Helpless tears rolled down my face as the man pulled his trousers off and grinned at me.

Suddenly, the man flew off my body and smashed into a brick wall. His body crumpled into a lifeless heap. Before his drunken companions could react, their heads were blown clean off their bodies leaving behind stumps spurting blood. I couldn't help myself. I lunged forward and drank until I was glowing with their warmth.

"Bonsoir mademoiselle," a voice called out.

I spun around, jaws dripping with blood.

"How can I be of assistance?"


	2. Chapter 2 Save Me

**What do you guys think? C'est bien?**

* * *

**Rue de Charlemagne, Paris, 1699**

"I've never met a vampire who was powerless against humans." he mused. His mouth was set in a faint smile.

The man was dressed entirely in fashionable black and had the aura of someone completely distinct from the norm. He was tall, much taller than Frenchmen generally were. He clearly wasn't from around here, but when he spoke French, his accent was crisp and utterly Parisian.

The man carried a walking stick topped with a brass eagle, but I think it was more of an affectation than of necessity. His posture betrayed no injuries whatsoever.

I dragged myself to my feet and curtsied politely letting him know that I was a lady of noble birth and not some common whore wandering the streets for clientele. The man's smile widened as he took off his hat and bowed.

"May I ask the lady's name?" he said. I was pleased to discover that he kept his eyes above my neck, even when my dress was ripped revealing giant gashes of skin through the thin lace. He had impeccable manners and he stood with all the hallmarks of good breeding. But there was something underneath his pale skin, clearly incongruous with the rest of him. Something sinister and evil. His no-nonsense stare and his carefully-controlled expression told me that this was no man to be dallied with. Even with my new-found strength, the long, gloved fingers that were curled around the walking stick could break my neck just as easily as they had thrown the men around like rag-dolls.

"Isabelle," I spoke clearly. I didn't trust him enough to tell him my real name, so I said the first name that came to mind, hoping he wouldn't press the matter.

"Isabelle," he repeated, each syllable hanging on his lips for far too long. Even in the dim street-lighting, I could tell that he was a handsome man. His face seemed to be carved from marble, each feature perfectly in proportion. He didn't have a scent like the cat or the men; he had a brighter, cleaner scent. "My name is Monsieur Northman. May I be of assistance to the lady?" He made me feel uneasy, like a mouse hearing a cat approach.

The faintest flicker of hope stirred in me when I realized that he was like me. Not human.

"Can you tell me what I am?" I asked. He stared blankly. The faint smile that played on his lips seemed vaguely condescending, and I began to feel irritated, but I had to keep my temper in check. I needed his help.

"You are the bane of humanity. You are a demon of the darkness. You are a creature of the night." he paused. "You are vampire." I waited for him to elaborate but he seemed done speaking.

"Can you help me?" I asked. The man scoffed.  
"Where is your maker?"

"I killed him." I said. I was surprised by the indifference in my tone, but I did not want to reveal my emotions to the strange man. Monsieur Northman raised an eyebrow a glacial inch and frowned.

"You could not have. Killing one's maker is akin to putting oneself through unimaginable mental and physical torture of the highest degree. How is it that a baby vampire who could not defend herself against three inebriated idiots be able to kill her master?"

I shrugged and matched his stare.

"Unfortunately for you, I have neither the need nor the time to foster a kitten such as yourself," he paused, "Delectable as you are." He waited to see my reaction to his words, but I was determined not to give anything away. I did not trust him or like him. He seemed dangerous.

"I bid you adieu," he said tipping his hat. And just like that he turned around and _flew away_ like a great, giant bird. Now I was on my own. I sighed and sat down on the steps of the nearest building, praying for some guidance.

I didn't know what I was or what I should do. And Monsieur Northman was no help. I don't think he was a gentleman. A true gentleman, human or otherwise would have helped a lady, human or otherwise, in distress.

Suddenly, my ears picked up the click-clacking of a pair of high-heeled boots. The sound of a woman. I jumped to my feet, this time ready to use my strength to defend myself.

The woman was short and plump, with a jovial look about her. She had blond hair piled high on top of her head and carried a lace parasol even though there wasn't any sunlight. I couldn't hear a heartbeat; she was vampire. But her rosy cheeks and her twinkling eyes reminded me of my mother. I felt I could trust this woman. She seemed a better character than Monsieur Northman.

"Bonsoir cherie," she exclaimed. "I heard the commotion and just had to investigate! My name is Madam Alouette Delacourt. And you are?"

"Diane."

"Pleasure to meet you! Are you in need of a place to stay cherie?"

"Yes. Can you help me?"

"Of course my dear. I own the Sparkling Diamond. You may come stay with me for as long as you like." Alouette smiled and held out her hand. Instinctively, I grabbed onto it and let her lead me down a dark alleyway.


End file.
